


Hey, Jealousy

by HoldWithThoseWhoFavorFire (AmethystDreamer)



Category: I Medici | Medici: Masters of Florence (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, jealous!Cosimo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 18:19:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8906965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmethystDreamer/pseuds/HoldWithThoseWhoFavorFire
Summary: Cosimo wonders if he'll ever be enough to make Contessina happy.





	

Cosimo never considered himself a man prone to petty fits of jealousy, especially irrational ones, and most certainly not irrational ones over his wife. Despite his past frequent doubt as to her loyalty to the Medici family’s prosperity, he had never once doubted her loyalty to him. Even the small pique of discomfort he experienced when he learned that Contessina and Ezio had spent time together while he was banished was easily soothed when in the same conversation he was handed the note giving him the information crucial to getting back to Florence.  
It was, therefore, a new and uncomfortable sensation he felt when he read the name on the invitation to the ball—Contarini. The former Isabella Contarini, now Foscari, had come with her husband to Florence, and a ball was to be held in her honor by her family.  
“We have been invited to a ball.” He announced, later that night when he was back in his chambers, and Contessina was sitting at her mirror, about to start undoing her day’s hair style.  
She met his eyes in the mirror as she began to unpin her hair. “Oh? Society has always been fickle.”  
“The invitation is less a representation of society, and more of a particularized gesture. It is being held by the Contarini’s to introduce their daughter and new son to Florence.” Watching her reflection carefully for sign of change, he added, “They are old family friends of yours, are they not?”  
His wife smiled serenely. “Yes, their sons were childhood friends of mine. It has been so long since I’ve seen them.”  
Feeling foolish, and yet still on edge, Cosimo walked across the room until he was standing right behind her. Finding it easier to look at her hair than her eyes, he found a pin and gently pulled it loose, then another found another. “I was under the impression you saw Ezio and Massimo Contarini last year.”  
His banishment and their year-long separation was rarely brought up now. Perhaps in their newfound marital closeness it was something that should have been discussed, but he always found himself too ashamed of his actions and behavior to address it directly.  
Hand folded demurely on her lap, Contessina replied with a hint of iron in her voice. “Yes, I attended a dinner at the Albizzi home they were both at. It was there I learned of the impending Contarini-Albizzi engagement.”  
The impending engagement that never happened, and that was partially responsible for his return home. Cosimo said nothing, properly rebuked, but still curious and afraid of what his curiousity would upend. He quietly completed unpinning her hair, and when it fell unencumbered across her shoulders, he ran his fingers through the silky length. His wife was a beautiful woman. The years spent in distance from her beauty, strength, and warmth were lost through his own fault—he must be careful to not make such a mistake again.  
“Are you ready to sleep, my love?” She asked, twisting her neck so he could see her affectionate smile. One hand sliding up the side of her face, Cosimo bent so he could kiss her thoroughly. Without disentangling their lips, he pulled her to her feet, and around the bench so he could press her against him. Passionate actions had always come more naturally to them than words of love, and he was feeling a sharp need to make his passion known.  
As ever, she reciprocated fully, enthusiastically, their coupling having been more intimate and playful in the last year than he could ever remember it being. When Cosimo looked intently into her beautiful green eyes as he sought to bring her to her peak, he was sure that neither of them had ever felt so close to another person before.  
Still, when the intimacy had ended, and he lay awake, one arm wrapped around Contessina as she slept with her face pressed to his shoulder, he wondered if given the choice, Contessina would rather have that intimacy with someone else. If, perhaps, despite her words of love and the dedication she had shown to their family, he was not enough to make her happy.  
Days flew by, busy enough that Cosimo was able to put out of his head the spark of jealousy the thought of Ezio and his wife had ignited. There was no noticeable change in her behavior leading up to the ball; they still spent hours discussing business and politics, and watched over their children and grandchild proudly. He felt no retraction of her affection, but no one would say Cosimo was a man living without fear of loss. Perhaps Contessina noticed his more careful gaze on her, but her only response was soft kisses and warm smiles.  
The day of the ball, Cosimo entered the hall of their home to find his wife already dressed and waiting for him with Pietro and Lucrezia. He paused in the doorway, taken aback all over again by her beauty. The green dress she wore brought out her eyes, and flattered her lovely exposed shoulders and neck. It clung gracefully to her waist and hips, hinting at the soft curves he knew so well. An ugly, uncharitable thought crossed his mind, ‘Who did she dress for?’  
His family turned to greet him, all three smiling with excitement. Cosimo gestured Pietro and Lucrezia out in front of them, but caught his wife’s hand. Eyes locked on hers, he brought her hand to his lips, and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. He then moved his lips to the soft skin of her wrist where he felt her pulse flutter beneath. “You look beautiful.”  
“Thank you.” Contessina smiled at him. “You told me once long ago you liked me in green.” They turned together and walked arm in arm to the carriage where the children were waiting. He did not recall saying those words exactly but he had thought them often enough that he believed he said them. Knowing she had remembered eased the nerves for a moment.  
The grand hall of the Contarini home was alive with light and music. Cosimo spend an enjoyable portion of the night discussing the art on the walls with Massimo—he recognized a work from his old friend Donatello. Overall, it was a pleasant experience, though he would never have the social grace of his wife, who was moving from group to group, winning back the loyalty of society and impressing all with her wit and poise.  
That was, perhaps, the most enjoyable part of his night, getting to observe a worry free Contessina do what she does so well and make friends out of enemies. Not for the first time in recent memory, he wondered if she resented having to give up her place in society to marry him. Four hours in, it became obvious he was not the only man appreciating his wife. From across the room, a man caught his eye. It took a moment to figure out why, but when Cosimo traced the longing look to Contessina, he began to understand.  
“Ezio Contarini?” He said, when he’d made his way to the other man’s side. “I am Cosimo d’Medici.”  
Ezio nodded in greeting, the softness in his eyes disappearing instantly. Cosimo had no doubt his own face revealed some of the hatred he felt within. “Welcome back to Florence.” Ezio responded. “I am sure she missed you.”  
While not as comfortable with social graces as his wife, Cosimo was well-versed in the double talk of enemies. Ezio was not referring to his city.  
“I missed her as well.” Blunt was often a good tactic against innuendo. “Being apart for so long was difficult on us both, I was told.”  
Ezio seemed to realize there would be no false niceties here, and so he squared himself to Cosimo. His own jaw tightened, and he refused to be the first to look away.  
“Contessina was alone here. You were not. Your treatment of your wife was abhorrent.”  
Cosimo felt as if a cold hand was squeezing his heart. “How fortunate for her to have friends like you to ease the loneliness of my absence. How fortunate for me that you have understood your presence is no longer necessary.”  
“I asked her to leave with me.” Ezio spat, finally landing a cutting blow. “Her loyalty to her vows forced her to refuse her happiness, but the kiss she gave me before I departed showed her true feelings.”  
The cold hand was now a sharp knife cutting him deeply in places he did not know were possible to feel pain in. “If you ever,” the rage in his voice was almost unrecognizable to his own ears, “speak to my wife again, I will kill you myself.”  
Ezio did not look properly frightened. “That would be a first for you, wouldn’t it?”  
For an instant, Cosimo truly believed he was about to murder a man in his family’s home, in front of all of Florentine society. Fortunately, or perhaps not considering the nearly uncontrollable urge to cause harm, Pietro interrupted at that moment. “Mother wishes a word, Father. She is by the windows.”  
He forced himself to nod in recognition of his son, and gave one last cutting glare to his companion. If that man was not out of his city by morning, the Sentorini would be brought in.  
Contessina was overlooking the city when he found her. Too upset to consider softer words, he demanded, “You kissed him?”  
She whirled around, appearing distraught. “I did, once, when I was alone and hurt.”  
“You kissed him.” Deep down, he suspected he was focusing on this because it was far easier to be angry about a kiss than to be terrified he might lose her. “You kissed that man.”  
She stepped forward so no one else would hear her words. “When I kissed him, you were likely in bed with another woman. Be careful where you cast your stones, Cosimo.”  
Unable to express himself without drawing attention, he grabbed her wrist, but immediately loosened his grip when he saw her wince. He was incapable of not hurting her, no matter how much he thought he had improved since his banishment. “Come with me.”  
A door off the hall lead to a small library, and there he was able to shut the door and feel as if he could speak freely. “Ezio told me he asked you to leave Florence with him.”  
Contessina was as angry as he’d ever seen her. “How dare you question my loyalty to you, again? After everything I’ve done, after everything we’ve been through, is there nothing I can do to prove myself?”  
vHe caught her face with his hands, desperately searching her eyes for the truth he needed. “I am not questioning your loyalty. You have been nothing but faithful even when I have failed, and no man could ask for a more steadfast wife. Contessina, I am questioning your happiness. Do you love Ezio? Would you rather have left with him than for me to have returned?”  
Her eyes closed, and a tear slipped out from beneath her eyelid, caught on her high cheekbone. “I do not love him, and I did not want to go with him.”  
“Please speak honestly to me.” He used his thumb to brush the tear away, and pulled her closer. “Are you sorry you stayed?”  
“No!” Her eyes flashed opened, and her own hands came up to cover his. “I thought I loved him once, and perhaps for a moment I wished I loved him still because loving Ezio would be easier.” Pained, he tried to step back, to drop his hands, but she wouldn’t let him go. “Cosimo, I can’t love Ezio and I can’t regret not leaving with him because I love you. You are a difficult, stubborn man, and I pray nightly for your soul, but it is you that I love. And it is you, and Pietro, and our home and bank that brings me happiness.”  
For a moment, Cosimo found depths of unselfishness he had not previously believed he possessed. “Are you certain? You have given me everything, and I…I would do anything to give you the happiness you deserve.”  
Tears pooled again, but her voice didn’t waver. “Then continue to talk to me. Tell me how your day is and how I can help. Let me be there for you.” Now it was her turn to touch his bearded face, and he turned to press a kiss to her palm. “All I have wanted these last twenty years was to be by your side. That is where my happiness lies.”  
For a moment, he just breathed that in—the assurance that, somehow, despite his extensive failings, he was enough to make her happy. Then, independently from any conscious choice, he fell forward and wrapped his arms around her. He buried his face in her neck to hide the emotion on his face. “I love you.” He whispered in her ear, and her hands on his shoulders tightened in surprise. “I need you.”  
She stroked the back of his head, chest rising and falling with her own emotions. “I love you too, Cosimo. I always have.”  
They stood there basked in candlelight for a while longer, reveling in truth and their love for another, before it was time to leave and face the rest of the challenges of life, together.

**Author's Note:**

> I am getting back into the swing of writing! Someday I'll write from Contessina's perspective. Join me on tumblr under the same username!


End file.
